Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Oh hi. Remember me? I used to write here in this blog. Sometimes I was funny. Mostly not. Sometimes I'd write posts that were all serious. Mostly not.

Sometimes I'd write sweet posts that were calculatedly designed to get all of my mom readers to cyber-throw their cyber-mom-jeans at me up on my cyber-stage. And to get Will to hit on me. Although that wasn't on purpose. That's just a bonus.

This post is an empty space. I just feel liking typing before I go to sleep. I don't have anything earth-shattering to say. I don't have any stories to tell (although, as you'd suppose from the title of this post I ought to be telling the story of our four-day weekend in Seattle). Even if I had a story I'm not sure I'd be telling it right now.

This space is for typing, tonight. Not for shaping.

Did you know that I played the baritone in the school band for six years? I was pretty good at it. No, no more details. That would make it look like a story. I'm just laying out some facts here.

My favourite president is President Sheridan from Babylon 5. That's a lie. But it's the answer that occurred to me first when I thought "do I have a favourite president?"

I deliberately spell words with an extra "u" sometimes, just to mess with you. Yo.

I have no observations to make right now; not about being a dad, not about being a dad in a mom's world; not about being a dad-blogger in a mom-blogger's cyberworld.

I'm not fond of the word "cyber", but I use it like sugar in my coffee.

I don't drink coffee. But when I do, I like it sweet.

You will find no deliberate messages in the words of this post. You might find some subconsciously-inspired ones, though.

I had a wicked crush on a Greek girl for four years, and for another four months five years later.

When Erin was five months old I started carrying her around in the backpack. I didn't start this blog until she was almost eleven months old. That's a lot of mysterious Backpacking Dad time lost. Not forever. There is a lame Livejournal out there that I used to write in but I don't anymore because it never captured my attention the way this blog does. It's even called "Backpacking Dad" at the moment. It used to be called "Thoughts from Suburbia" because I'm an asshole.

Can I just type and type and watch the words fall out? I think so.

I'm getting tired though. Is this what journal writing is like?

"Dear Diary: I hate Johnny Ratface. I don't know what his last name is, but he sits at the back of the bus with his hillbilly friends and he thinks he can grow a moustache but he can't and I'm pretty sure he just wants to go out with my girlfriend and doesn't understand why she's seeing me when she should be going out with a good ol' boy like him. Johnny Ratface, who jokes to his friends, loudly enough for me to hear, "Know what my dad says Indians are? Prairie niggers." I'm pretty sure that if I come back to this town on this little hillbilly island he'll be here, working at the autoshop and wondering whether whiskey or gin reeks less when you roll down your window to talk to the cop who just pulled you over."

See what happens? I try to just let the words come out and instead a story falls out. I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell a story.

One summer, on that island, my summer job was to get a tan and ask the tourists if they wanted to rent a jetski. Every hour I'd hop on one and go buzz the ferry so they could all see what fun it was. I loved jumping the huge wake. I was really bad at selling it, though, because I'm pretty sure my boss, who owned the diner across the street from the dock and who sold smuggled cigarettes from his counter, lost a bunch of money that summer. I don't remember making a lot of money either. I think I bought a book. I was really tanned though.

Your randomness is one of the more entertaining things I've read today. I'm afraid to just let the words fall out, I'd offend pretty much everyone and I know and mostly likely get fired, which may or may not be a good thing. If I had Mom jeans, I'd wear them today in support of your blog. And then I'd ask someone to slap some wardrobe sense into me.

mom jeans? why do we have to throw mom jeans at you, I believe that if I am to throw any type of lower half garment at you or anyone for that matter, they would be of the Yoga variety. I live in yoga pants. Loved your randomness. :)

Not to sound like a groupie, but somehow even your random post is great. You suck. No, not really, I'm just jealous that you can pull off a random post. And crabby from the flu. And I don't wear mom jeans, thank you very much (picturing "mom jeans" as unflattering, balloon-shaped, too-short, ugly light blue wash, elastic-waist pants).

I dig the randomness. I haven't commented on your blog yet but you keep my highly entertained..be it a story or randomness. Many chuckles and chortles have been made by me when reading your blog.

That being said, I missed the whole Worst Road Trip timeliness. And you gave me the idea to write about mine on my blog. I hope that is okay. I did credit you with having the idea. And I gotta be honest...I could possibly have won your contest with mine. So if you have a minute and you're interested in it, check out www.dayleedose.com.

goldfish: You were looking for this stuff? Really? Ok. You're in for a treat then, because I'm going to go ahead and write crap like this all the damn time now because it's a lot easier than looking for import.

xbox4nappyrash: Edit. I totally edited this one. Once. Because I wrote "ferry" and then wrote a joke about it not being that kind of "fairy" and then deleted the joke but accidentally deleted the "ferry" part and not "fairy" so it looked like I was buzzing the "fairy" and when I saw that after publishing I had to go back and fix it. But that was the only edit.

ali: It would be ok if you wore mom jeans. Mom jeans are hawt.

always home and uncool: Newborn Identity wrote something about Dad Jeans a while ago. I'm too lazy to find the link though.

the stiletto mom: you'd get fired? Oh, you have a job. I had a job once. I didn't like it, so I had a baby and then told my wife "You're going to work and I'm going to surf the net all day" and she was all "whatever, dude, get in the kitchen and bake me a pie" and I was all "here, have some pancakes."

kristin: yoga pants will work just fine, thank you very much. But I've been trying to think of something to make out of all that denim.

Will: that gave me the shivers. Awesomely creepy. :}

elisa: I don't really know what mom jeans are but people have spoken about them before so I thought they were something moms just got in the mail.

tami: welcome, and thank you for "chortle". I don't think anyone has suggested before that they chortle when they read this thing.

Sugar, you have my word that I will never, ever throw my jeans (mom or otherwise) at you - I'd be terrified you'd get lost in 'em and I'd be blamed for killing off one fine daddy-blogger. Nope, don't want the guilt.

Your random is dipped in awesome and sprinkled in joy. This both amazes me and makes me seethe with the blinding hot jealousy of someone who babbles, abuses commas, and has a love affair with ellipses that is just a charade to mask her true desire for paranthesis. How do you do it, BP Dad!? HOW!?

P.S. I don't really seethe, I guess. That would probably be ugly. I like to project some mystique of total awesomeness, too.